


The Bear Island Book Club

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Mostly SFW except the final chapter, West Texas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern Southern AU in which Catelyn Stark and Maege Mormont, two very different but very strong Southern women form what is first a surprising friendship and then, after Cat loses Ned, becomes something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Element of Surprise

When Maege Mormont would reflect on it later, she would realize that her attraction to Catelyn Stark began much earlier than she was aware of it. But today, on this first warm spring day in West Texas, was the first time she felt vaguely conscious of it.

They both belonged to a book club with about a half dozen other local gals; a few from the Presbyterian Church in Bear Island, a couple others tagging along from work and the like. They’d started up back in late November, and while it wasn’t necessarily Maege’s idea of a good time, she figured it was probably better for her to have a social outlet than not.

The members took turns hosting, and today was her turn. She was in her kitchen, stirring a large pitcher of sweet tea with a wooden spoon, when she saw a motorcycle slow down in front of her house, then pull up near the curb, then come to a stop. She scowled. Whoever the hell that is, they’ve got the wrong place, she thought, and not even bothering to set down the pitcher of tea and the spoon, she marched out her front door to set this no-account straight on where he belonged.

As Maege got about halfway down the driveway, that no-account took off the biker helmet and, to Maege’s infuriated surprise, revealed themselves to in fact be Catelyn Stark, a full fifteen minutes early.

This part of West Texas actually did experience something like winter, and when Catelyn began attending the group in the colder weather, she was always wearing shapeless sweaters with appliques, or loosely cut blazers, with her dark red hair usually pinned up pretty conservatively, though it was often a little rumpled, as if she’d jogged all the way there; typical enough suburban mom attire, and that was what she was, as far as Maege knew. Five children, aged nine to twenty, a nice enough but fairly non-descript husband, and a mini-van. Attended the Presbyterian church in town on a semi-regular basis. Maege’s military training, which was fully a part of her thinking after twenty years in the army, had sized her up quickly, and settled on the label of Harmless Suburban Lady.

Although it didn’t escape her notice that Catelyn often had fairly insightful things to say about whatever they were reading, Maege nonetheless couldn’t resist attempting to ruffle her feathers with off-color jokes from time to time. But the only reaction she’d ever get was a raised eyebrow and a smirk. It was almost becoming no fun. Almost.

She came stomping up to Catelyn, almost furious. “Catelyn Goddamned Stark! What in the hell are you doing on that Harley!?” she barked, sounding exactly as she did when she was Colonel Mormont, barking at an incompetent private.

Catelyn gave her an easy smile. “It’s faster than walkin’?” she suggested.

“Since when are you a biker?”

“Since twenty five years, Maege.”

Maege stands there taking in the whole spectacle: her faded jeans, her Heart 1979 tour t-shirt, the boots, and her hair, still pinned up, still a little rumpled. And then there were the tattoos on her upper arms that she couldn’t quite make out because they disappeared beneath her sleeves.

She stood sputtering for a moment, before collecting herself and grumbling, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Catelyn’s blue eyes twinkled, the faint crows feet around them deepening a little as she smiled, pursing her lips. “Aw, Maege,” she drawled. “Bless your heart, you thought you had me all figured out, huh, sugar?”

Maege shook the wooden spoon at her for a moment, trying to find something to say. That tour t-shirt was a little clingy.

Just then, Maege’s oldest daughter Dacey went jogging by them. Maege glanced at her watch, glad for the distraction, and hollered, “Pick up the pace, Dacey! I know the drill team at Fort Pyke personally, and let me tell you, Seargent Greyjoy is six foot tall, two hundred fifty pounds and she is NOT there for your shit!”

Dacey shot her a frustrated look but obediently put a bit more hustle in her step.

Catelyn said nothing, but gave her the look. The arch, raised eyebrow look.

“She’s leavin’ for basic in two weeks and I will not have her show up unprepared,” Maege said firmly.

Catelyn smiled. “Well, good on you, mama bear.” She swung her leg comfortably over the bike to dismount it, leaned down to check that the kickstand was secure, and her t-shirt rode up her back ever so slightly. Maege got a little glimpse of a pale sliver of skin at the small of her back, just above the waistline of her jeans, and she had this feeling that sometime later this evening, she’d be reliving that split second.

“Now look, honey,” she scolded, “you can’t be showin’ up here looking like some kind of goddamn rowdy, I’ll have half a mind to steal you for a weekend to go do some Thelma & Louise-ing.”

They started up the driveway toward the house. “Long as you let me out of the car before you drive off that cliff,” Catelyn replied.

“I was thinkin’ more about the hellraisin’ and the sex with Brad Pitt, not so much about the driving off the cliff.”

“The driving off the cliff defines the story!” Catelyn exclaimed. “If the ending isn’t tragic then it’s just any old road movie, but with girls driving the car.”

“Aw, put a sock in it, Stark. You ain’t even been here five minutes and I have had enough of you.”

“Course you have.”

“I have.”

“I know.”

“It’s true, hun.”

“You said that.”

“Get your ass inside, woman.” 


	2. At Close Range

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maege and Cat start going target shooting together. Maege talks a young soldier with PTSD out of a standoff.

That summer, Maege and Catelyn started spending time together outside of the book club meetings. Maege suggested they go target shooting with rifles at the local range.

Catelyn hedged. "I dunno, Maege, it's not really my thing."

"For the love of God, woman, even the little queer fella that runs the candle store goes shooting on the weekends! You tellin' me you can't handle a firearm?" Maege demanded.

"Hell no, course I can," Catelyn answered primly, "I got a Ruger SR9C and a Springfield EMP.  Even got my concealed carry permit, just to have it.  I just don't really take 'em out much." 

"Girly guns," Maege snorted. "You got one of them little pink numbers too, hun?"

Catelyn looked at her with a dry little smile. "You ain't really sellin' me, here, Maege."

Somehow or other though, she talked Cat into going with her. She loaded a couple of rifles into the gun rack; her usual, plus a Bushmaster for Catelyn, which she figured would be a good long gun for her to start with since it didn't have much recoil. They checked in at the range, where everyone knew Maege and addressed her as "Colonel" or occasionally, joshingly, "General," and they found a spot. 

Maege handed her the Bushmaster and said, "OK, before we go for it, let me see you hold this and aim it at the target out there.  It don't snap back much but you'll still get a little bruised if you ain't doing it right."

Cat pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead, picked up the rifle,  and aimed at the distance, squinting down the barrel and trying to get a feel for it.  Maege paused for half a second, thinking she was assessing Catelyn's stance, and she was-- but somehow she was also absorbing the whole picture; Cat's cowboy boots, her worn-in jeans, another slightly clingy rock and roll shirt, this one for The Allman Brothers; head tilted slightly forward, eyes concentrating, rifle in her arms, hair pinned up, with those little deep-auburn tendrils of perennially-escaped hair at the nape of her neck... The thought crossed Maege's mind, so quickly she almost didn't perceive herself thinking it, _Lord but she does cut a nice figure, aiming that thing._  

She cleared her throat. "Alright.  Good start, but you need this hand to be more like, here..."  She takes Cat's hand and slides it up the barrel.  "...closer to your chest." 

Then she placed a hand on her shoulder, saying, "OK, and you got to relax your shoulder here..."  She walked around her, looking her over, and then patted her leg.  "Feet should be a little further apart, make sure you don't lose balance..." 

As she came around, she put a hand on her other arm.  "Now, this elbow should be in a little tighter to your ribs, like this."

"You can just tell me where to put it, sugar, you don't need to frisk me,"  Catelyn remarked.  Her tone was the same peppery one they always used with each other as they lobbed little barbs back and forth, but her eyes caught Maege's for a moment, and Maege swore there was a knowing twinkle in them.

Maege got ahold of herself and snorted, "Now you quit actin' ugly or it'll be a cavity search."

"Pssh, promises."

Satisfied that Catelyn was ready, she adjusted her aim once more and then popped the muffs on, first Cat's ears, then her own. 

"Safety first," Maege said sternly, securing them over Catelyn's ears.

She watched Cat pull the trigger and feel the impact of it go through her, and then let out a whoop and laugh.  "Oh my word!" she exclaims, laughing.  "Oh, you were right, this _is_ fun!  This has it all over my little girly guns, bless me!"

Maege grinned.  "What'd I tell you?"  She patted her on the back.  "Go on and take another."

The next hour was a riot as Catelyn worked on getting comfortable with holding and aiming, and Maege was enjoying watching her face light up when she fired and felt the thrill of the sound and recoil in her bones.  She was a lousy shot, though she got a little better toward the end.  When they were done, Cat was flushed and gleeful and asked, "When can we go again?"

Maege nodded approvingly.  "You tell me, honey."  

 

**************  

 

This became a pastime for them, a way to celebrate, to blow off steam together, to have some fun when Cat desperately needed a girl's night out.  Like Catelyn, Ned also owned a few guns, but didn't really take them out recreationally, and the one time that he and his friend Robert came to the range along with her and Maege (there was some weak attempt to set Maege up with Robert and it was pretty much a bust), he didn't really seem to get much out of it, and affectionately told Cat that it was alright if this was just her thing.

"I got nothin' to prove, darlin'," he said, giving her a sweet little peck on the cheek.  "I don't mind it if you're more of an hombre than me about this one."

They'd been going shooting on the weekends or the occasional weeknight for a year or so when something happened that kept them away from the range for a good while, and gave Maege a new calling.

It was a weekend afternoon in early fall;  they arrived to find it dead empty.  When they inquired as to why, the manager, Loras, reminded them that the A&M Buffaloes were playing the ENMU Greyhounds and everyone was probably already tailgating. 

Maege nodded.  "Cat, why don't you see if Ned wants to come by later with the kids and we'll watch it on the TV."

As they were checking in, Maege took note of another young man checking in; he was wearing fatigue pants and a black tee-shirt and had a kind of pale, nervous look about him as he was talking through something with Willas; Willas Tyrell was the brother of the manager and the young Marine worked there as an instructor. 

As Cat and Maege made their way over to their spot, Maege was scowling, which didn't escape Catelyn's notice.  "Something wrong?"

Maege shook her head.  "That boy don't look right."

"Who?"

"The kid who was checking in with Willas."

"What do you mean?"

Maege shook her head again. "He don't look right.  He looks all fucked up.  I hope Willas has the good goddamn sense to steer him away from the range today.  He don't look right."

They slid into their now-familiar routine of loading the rifles and checking them for each other, and then Catelyn bent down to pull the muffs out of Maege's bag.  That was when they heard the first shot.

But it didn't come from the range; it came from inside the check-in office.  Maege grabbed her rifle and ran toward the office.  Catelyn tried to follow, but she said, "No, you stay back."

She ran up on the door and peered inside, and saw the young man that she'd remarked on.  He'd discharged a round into Willas, who was on the ground, still moaning.  She couldn't see where exactly he'd pegged him, but he was still alive.  The kid had his gun trained on Willas's head. 

Maege bellowed, "HOLD YOUR FIRE, SOLDIER!"

The kid's head snapped up and he turned around.  His eyes found Maege, leaning around the doorjamb. At this point, Loras, the manager, had also come rushing in, sidearm drawn. The one or two other folks who'd come to shoot today were also making their way over.

The kid cocked his pistol again, still aimed at Willas.  He was shaking and pale, and had a tortured look on his face.

"I am Colonel Mormont, US Army, and I am ordering you to hold your goddamn fire, son."  Her voice took on all of the weight and authority that it had ever had when she commanded men in the field. He stood there shaking, now with several guns trained on him. Her tone softened a little.  "What's your name, soldier?"

He looked at her with a tormented, hunted look.  "Army Specialist Jojen Reed, ma'am," he answered after a moment. Maege nodded, still peering around the door. 

"Well, Specialist Reed, it looks like you are in a world of shit right now, don't it."

"Yes ma'am."

She assessed him for a moment.  "How long you been back stateside, Reed?"

He still held the gun trained on Willas, who was still lying there groaning quietly.  But he was looking at her now.  "Uh, about two months, ma'am."

"Iraq?"

"Yes ma'am.  I done three tours as a field medic."

"Well, Jesus Christ on a goddamn pony, son.  In 25 years in the service, I never saw a bigger shit hole than Iraq.  And a field medic?"  She shook her head, her heart breaking a little for him.  He was so young.  "You boys see the worst shit, always.  No wonder you're all fucked up."

"Yes ma'am." She looked around at the others, who still had their guns trained on young Specialist Reed.  She gestures to them to continue to hold their fire.  "You lose some brothers over there, Reed?"

"Yes ma'am.  Half my platoon, ma'am."

She nods.  "That's a bitch, no doubt about it.  I lost my share of kids under my command, a lot of 'em younger than you.  One shit day in Fallujah at the beginning of the war, I lost 22 kids, and I don't think a one of 'em was older than you.  I ain't even gonna tell you what was done to 'em, either.  It took me a long time to come back from that, son.  You feel wrong that you get to live.  You feel even more wrong when they were kids under your command, 'cause it's like they're _your own_ kids.  You understand me?  I left the service not long after that, son, and it took me years and years to get well again, and I needed a lot of help to do it."

Reed's eyes start to water.  "I don't understand why..."  he started to sob.  "...It's so... I can't understand..."

She gently cuts him off.  "You talking to anyone?  You gettin' any help?"

Reed shook his head.  "N-no ma'am," he stammes.

Maege sighs.  "Alright.  Look, that fella you just shot, he's a good Marine, he's got a wife and a brand new baby at home, and we need to get him to a hospital if he's gonna make it, OK?"

Reed nodded, now with tears streaming down his face.

"Now, we are gonna have to call the police, but what I want you to do right now, is I want you to slowly put down that weapon, alright?"  She looks around at everyone who have guns pointed at Reed.  "Don't anybody do anything fuckin' dumb.  We got _two_ wounded warriors in this room that need help, alright?  Not one, we got _two_.  Reed's gonna put his gun down, and we're all gonna sit tight while we wait for the cops, and get an ambulance in here for Willas.  Is that clear?"

Everyone nods, even Willas's brother Loras, after a moment of hesitation.

"OK Reed, nobody's gonna shoot you.  Put that gun down slowly, and slide it over to me, OK?"

Reed slowly crouches down and slides it across the floor.  Maege stops it with her foot and picks it up.  She turns around and sees that Catelyn has crept up and has been watching from about 10 feet behind her.  She sees that Cat's eyes are also filled up with tears, though can't bother to wonder what part of this sorry spectacle has got her so emotional.  She's annoyed that Cat hadn't stayed back where she'd told her to. 

"Damnit, Cat.  It ain't safe up here.  Get back over where you were, and call 911. We need an ambulance and cops."

Catelyn nods and gets her phone out to call.

Maege turns back to Reed.  "OK, Specialist Reed.  Now you're gonna do a job for me, alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You're going to patch that man up, is that clear, soldier?"

"Yes ma'am."

Loras starts to object, "With all due respect, Colonel-" 

"With all due respect, Loras, your brother is gonna bleed to death before the goddamn ambulance gets here if we don't let Specialist Reed here patch him up.  The man's a field medic.  Now go get him some goddamn supplies."

By the time Reed finishes with Willas's wound, the ambulance arrives, followed closely by the local police.  They load Reed into the car and another car shows up and takes statements from Maege and everyone else there. 

Cat and Maege get in the car to go back to Maege's, but before she can start the car, Catelyn throws her arms around Maege's broad shoulders and starts crying quietly.  Maege puts her arm around Cat and squeezes her tightly.  "It's all over," she says reassuringly.

"It's not that.  I knew you had it under control," Catelyn says, pulling back to look at her.  "It's just... I'm sorry, Maege.  I'm sorry I never asked you what you went through over there." 

She's crying tears of guilt, Maege realizes. She draws Catelyn back to her and lets her auburn head rest on her shoulder.  "Baby girl, how could you know?  Don't feel like you owe me anything."

Cat sniffles.  "But I knew you were over there, and I never asked you.  You're my friend, and I care about you, and I never asked.  I... I don't know if there's anything I can even do, to .... to be there for you about that, but..."

Maege sighs, glad for Catelyn's nearness and her desire to be supportive.  "You're already doing it.  Just be my friend, honey.  That's all I need.  Normal living.  Family.  Friends."  She gives Cat a chaste kiss on the top of her head.  "Friends like you."


	3. Red Dirt Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after losing Ned, Catelyn finally leaves the house, at Maege's urging. She discovers that even after years of friendship, Catelyn is still able to surprise her.

It took Maege a full six months to get Catelyn to go anywhere at all after she lost Ned.  She wouldn't go to church, wouldn't go to the range, wouldn't come to book club.  It was actually rare she'd even pick up the phone, and most times when Maege called, if anyone answered it'd be Bran, who wanted to talk about his fifth grade class's gerbils until Arya snatched the phone away demanding to know when Maege was going to take _her_ shooting, or more often Sansa, who would make up reasons to keep her on the phone until eventually breaking down and just begging her to come over.

So Maege went by often, usually bearing some casseroles or a crock full of chili, or occasionally, a jumbo sized case of toilet paper or an enormous bag of coffee from Costco, big enough that you could have fit about three of Rickon inside of it. If Catelyn wasn't sleeping, she was glad to see her, as Sansa knew she would be.

The kind of raw grief you get when you lose a partner of almost twenty-five years has a way of stripping away pretense.  Cat needed someone to lean on, and it wasn't right for it to be her kids.  She was still working, and being a mother, and by the end of the day, she didn't have much left for anything else. There was her sister, Lysa, of course, but she lived in Eyrie, which was a good forty-five minutes when the freeway was relatively clear, plus she was widowed herself and, while she only had the one child to care for, the boy, Robin, had severe Asperger's.  With the amount of special care he needed, Cat couldn't feel alright asking her for much. But sometimes Lysa would come by for the day anyway, and Sansa would be stuck chasing Robin around, trying to keep him from running out into the road or shoving non-food objects into his mouth, while Lysa did a little cleaning or did some grocery shopping for them.

But on balance, it was most often Maege that would prop her up.  Cat would often curl up next to her on the couch, head on her strong shoulder.  A lot of times, Maege would entertain her with a little gossip about what was going on at book club or at church, but just as often, it was a quiet time.  Cat just sat beside her, or lay on the couch with her feet up on the arm of it, her head in Maege's lap, watching football or the nighttime soaps.

Finally, Maege convinced Cat that Sansa could hold the fort for a Saturday afternoon so that they could go out for a little coffee and a stroll around the shopping district.  Catelyn wasn't exactly enthusiastic but it seemed like a sufficiently low-pressure situation.  No requirements to socialize in an enclosed space with other people.  It could work.

They had coffee at a diner, since Maege had a moral objection to snobby coffee-shops, which to her mind included even Starbucks.  It was a warm day, very much like that first warm spring day when Catelyn had pulled up on her Harley in front of Maege's house for the first time.  They walked next to each other, the backs of their hands repeatedly brushing and bumping against each other.  They couldn't seem to decide if they wanted to hold hands or not; Maege would keep on sort of loosely squeezing Cat's hand to emphasize something she was saying, but not really taking hold of it, and then quickly letting go. Cat would kind of do the same thing a few minutes later, and then it would all go around in a circle again.  Meanwhile, they were busy looking in the shop windows, not acknowledging this odd thing they were doing. They wandered into the candle shop.

Renly, the owner, and to anyone's knowledge the only gay man in Bear Island, was busy unpacking some boxes of something very perfume-y. "Afternoon, ladies," he drawled, grinning at them both.

"Hey, Renly," Maege answered.  "What are you unpacking there?"

"New soaps!  And they are _divine_.  I got some samples from this little company over in Austin, they make 'em all organic and girl, let me tell you, I _love_ 'em.  These are the sandalwood, but they got teaberry and lilac and sage and rosemary and-"

"Aw shit, Renly, you know I come in here for the lavender oil and that's it."

Catelyn raises an eyebrow, smirking in that way that made Maege angry, or annoyed, or ... or something.  "You buy lavender oil?"

"Yeah, so what?  Relaxes you,"  Maege grunts.

Cat's expression doesn't change.

"Don't you give me that look, Stark.  It's science."

"Science my ass, you got a girly side to you, Colonel," Cat shot back, a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"You givin' me shit, girl?"

"I would never."

Maege harrumphed. "Tell you what, I am beginning to regret taking you out today."

Renly whooped. "Y'all ladies are gonna have to get a room if you keep that up."

Maege turned and scowled at him. "What in the hell are you talking about, boy?"

Renly demurred. "Well I'm sure I don't know, honey," he replied mischievously, "it's just looks to me like you met your match, there."

Catelyn and Maege looked at each other, then back at Renly. Maege was borderline pissed off and looked ready to haul off and sock him, but Cat seemed more amused than anything, so Maege tried to tame her mood.

A mortified look crept onto Renly's face. "Wait... You gals ain't a couple?"

"A couple of what?" Maege asked sharply.

"You know... A _couple_..."

"Renly, we ain't even gay," Maege snapped irritably. "Much less gay with each other."

He seemed genuinely embarrassed. "Oh hell, Maege, I'm sorry, I just... You been comin' in here well over four years and... You never talk about a man or nothin', and what with the Army thing and all, well... I'm sorry, darlin', I just assumed you was family."

"Well, I ain't," Maege grumbled, "and I don't see why y'all need to walk around thinkin' everyone's gay."

Catelyn placed a soothing hand on Maege's back. "It's okay, honey, there ain't a damn thing wrong with it. Hell, I'll take it as a compliment, Renly." She winked at him. "Say, I think we've met, haven't we?"

Renly smiled. "Kinda. I've seen you gals shooting together at Tyrell's a bunch of times."

Catelyn nodded. "Yeah, that's right. You got them nice Bushmasters."

"Right!" he said excitedly.

Maege was still standing there, trying to clear the storm clouds from around her scowling face.

"Don't you think," Catelyn said with a tone that Maege recognized as one that would precede a ribbing of some kind, "it's a little ironic, your firearm of choice?"

"Huh?"

"A gay man, running around with a BUSHmaster?"

Renly laughed out loud. "Hoowee, Colonel, I don't know where you found this gal, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head. Seeing that Cat had lightened things to the point where they could end this encounter gracefully, he pulled out a small bottle of lavender oil and handed it to Maege. "I don't want to tie you up any more, now.  Here you go, honey. On the house. Sorry about the mix-up."

"That's real sweet of you, Renly," Cat said appreciatively. "C'mon, Maege, let's get going. I know you wanted to stop by the Coach outlet. You take care now, Renly."

Cat ushered them out of the shop. The next two hours, as they meandered around the shops, Maege continued grumbling about Renly's assumption, but she found that Catelyn was oddly sanguine about it, and seemed to find Maege's grumbling amusing.

At the end of the strip, just as they were about to turn around and head back to the car, Catelyn's eyes lit on the music store across the street, Martell's New and Used Instruments.  She broke away from Maege and went darting across the street.  When Maege caught up, she found Cat with her fingertips pressed up against the glass, gazing longingly at an acoustic guitar hanging in the window.  It had a dark chestnut sunburst finish with a pick guard that had flowers engraved on it.  It looked vintage but she couldn't be sure.

"I'm gonna go have a look," Catelyn said suddenly, and slipped inside.

The owner, Obie, was a handsome, scruffy guy in his 40s and he was doing a lot of flirting with Catelyn as he took the guitar out of the window for her and then handed her a pick.  She sat down with it and started to plunk at it a little.

"Obie, is this a real J-200?" she asked him.

He chuckled.  "No, darlin'.  That ain't a Gibson, not at that price. You got a good eye, though.  It was one of the last good knockoffs that Epiphone made before they started building everything in China."

Maege was surprised to find that once Catelyn's fingers loosened up, she was reasonably competent on the thing.  "Play Freebird," she teased.

"Careful with that joke, sugar, it's an antique!" Cat replied tartly.  She continued moving her fingers up and down the neck, strumming a little, listening to the richness of the sound.  Then she launched into a relaxed, steady strum, something that sounded vaguely familiar.  Then, to Maege's additional surprise, she started to sing.

Her untrained voice, while a little pitchy here and there, was warm and low, and had a little bit of pleasing roughness around the edges that made Obie Martell stop and take note, and made the hairs on Maege's arms stand up a little in a way that she found she enjoyed. She sang:

> Me and my best friend Lillian  
>  And her blue tick hound dog Gideon,  
>  Sittin on the front porch cooling in the shade  
>  Singin every song the radio played  
>  Waitin for the Alabama sun to go down  
>  Two red dirt girls in a red dirt town  
>  Me and Lillian  
>  Just across the line and a little southeast of Meridian.
> 
> She loved her brother I remember back when  
>  He was fixin up a '49 Indian  
>  He told her 'Little sister, gonna ride the wind  
>  Up around the moon and back again"  
>  He never got farther than Vietnam,  
>  I was standin there with her when the telegram come  
>  For Lillian.
> 
> Now he's lyin somewhere about a million miles from Meridian.  
>  She said there's not much hope for a red dirt girl  
>  Somewhere out there is a great big world  
>  Thats where I'm bound
> 
> And the stars might fall on Alabama  
>  But one of these days I'm gonna swing  
>  My hammer down  
>  Away from this red dirt town  
>  I'm gonna make a joyful sound
> 
> She grew up tall and she grew up thin  
>  Buried that old dog Gideon  
>  By a crepe myrtle bush in the back of the yard,  
>  Her daddy turned mean and her mama leaned hard  
>  Got in trouble with a boy from town  
>  Figured that she might as well settle down  
>  So she dug right in  
>  Across a red dirt line just a little south east from Meridian
> 
> She tried hard to love him but it never did take  
>  It was just another way for the heart to break  
>  So she dug right in.  
>  But one thing they don't tell you about the blues  
>  When you got em  
>  You keep on falling cause there ain't no bottom  
>  There ain't no end.  
>  At least not for Lillian
> 
> Nobody knows when she started her skid,  
>  She was only 27 and she had five kids.  
>  Coulda' been the whiskey,  
>  Coulda been the pills,  
>  Coulda been the dream she was trying to kill.  
>  But there won't be a mention in the news of the world  
>  About the life and the death of a red dirt girl  
>  Named Lillian  
>  Who never got any farther across the line than Meridian.
> 
> Now the stars still fall on Alabama  
>  Tonight she finally laid  
>  That hammer down  
>  Without a sound  
>  In the red dirt ground

Maege wasn't even entirely sure what it was that made her mist up listening to her sing. She noticed a look of... Well, it was hard to explain, but she thought that Cat had seemed grounded in herself when she was playing just now. It didn't feel like there was some part of her that was someplace else. It was a moment that was unclouded by grief, which was a rare occurrence nowadays. She wondered how much of that song rang true for Cat.

"Emmylou Harris," Obie remarked approvingly, "very nice. Lotta people forget about that album, and it's a nice one."

"How much?" Maege asked.

He looked back and forth between them. "Four hundred."

Catelyn sighed sadly. "That's a fair price, it's just too much for me right now." She reluctantly handed it back to him. "Sorry. Thanks for letting me play it, Obie."

They walked back to the car in silence. "I didn't know you could do that," Maege finally said.

"Yeah. I was never gonna be a rock star or nothin but I liked it. At my best, I wasn't bad. Ned used to play a little too."

It was the first time today that she'd mentioned him.

"That song you sang... Is it about you?"

"No. Well... Not all of it. Guess some of it is, though. Enough that it spoke to me the first time I ever heard it ." She smiled wistfully.

They got into the car, and they were about five hundred feet from the parking lot before Maege suddenly sputtered, "Aw, shit," and turned the car around.

"Forget something?"

"Yeah, my goddamn good sense," and she steered the car down the strip, pulled up in front of Martell's and ran inside, leaving the engine running and Catelyn sitting bewildered in the front seat.  She re-emerged a few minutes later with a black hard-shell guitar case in hand, and she opened the back door and slid it into the car, resting it across the back seats.

Catelyn looked at her, wide-eyed.  "What'd you do, Maege?"

"Well, open it, damnit," Maege ordered, and she walked around the car and got back in.

Cat unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around, leaned over the back seat, and flipped the case open.  Inside was the guitar she'd just been playing.  Her jaw dropped open.  "Maege, what in hell did you do?"

"It's yours," she answered gruffly.

"I can't ... This is too much!" Catelyn exclaimed.  "I can't let you do this!"

"Well, you don't got a say in the matter.  It's done.  It's paid for.  It's yours."

Catelyn's eyes welled up.  "Maege," she whispered.  "I don't know what to say."

"Just say thank you, or did your mama not teach you that?"

Catelyn turned to her, flung her arms around her, and squeezed hard.  "Thank you, honey.  I love it."  She planted a warm kiss on Maege's cheek.

It made the $400 she spent for the guitar and the extra $95 for the hard case one hundred percent worth it.  She found herself wishing Cat would stay exactly where she was for a few minutes more _._ When Catelyn pulled back, she was looking at her funny.  Not "are you responsible for that weird smell" funny, but "I'm entertaining possibly kissing you" funny.  Maege cleared her throat and put the car into gear.

"Alright now.  Let's get you home before Sansa pulls all her pretty hair out, minding them kids."

But she spent a long time before she fell asleep that night, thinking about how nice it felt when Cat's arms were around her, about how she smelled like tea tree oil body wash, how soft her lips were when she planted them on her cheek.

 


	4. What Binds Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maege and Cat are both reminded that only get one shot at life on earth, one chance to be those things we are meant to be.

Seasons crept along and life in Bear Island started feeling downright normal. Maege had taken training as a crisis counselor after the incident at the range and had been serving both officially (through the VA) and unofficially as an adviser to help vets with PTSD reintegrate on returning home. Specialist Reed was a particularly personal project for her; she had served in Afghanistan with the father of the young judge who heard Reed's case, and her promise of involvement in his situation was probably the main factor that won probation for the damaged young soldier instead of jail.

Dacey was stationed in Germany, facing the enviable problem of whether to accept the fast-tracked officer training program she was being offered, or go for Special Forces. Alysane and Lyra were in their first and second years at West Point. Jorelle and Lyanna were in their junior and senior years, playing lacrosse and softball and planning to start ROTC soon.

Catelyn started going to church again, and at Maege's urging, started playing in the praise band on Sundays. While she didn't seem to get the same spiritual uplift that some did from it, it did seem to be part of what was making her whole again, and re-engaging her in the business of living. And Maege always looked forward to her one solo, when she sang "I'll Fly Away."

Lysa started coming around less since the Starks seemed to have things more in hand. Sansa at one point quietly confessed to Maege that she would secretly have rathered to do the cleaning or shopping that Lysa did than chase Robin around, because he was so thoroughly exhausting.

But Maege continued to come by as much as ever, sometimes with her two younger daughters in tow, but often alone, since they were at the age where they preferred the company of their peers anyhow. She continued to eat dinner with Cat and the kids, play video games with Bran and Rickon, and sit watching sports on the couch with Cat's head on her shoulder. Only now it wasn't because Cat needed her there; it was because she wanted her there.

One Saturday afternoon, she arrived to find Lysa's truck parked out front. She could see Robin sitting in Rickon's sandbox at the back of the yard, with Sansa next to him, pleading with him to spit the sand out. As she made her way around, she heard Lysa and Catelyn talking and for a reason she couldn't explain, she paused to eavesdrop.

"Yeah, well," she heard Lysa saying, "Sansa said you been playing in the church band. Said your soldier lady bought you a new guitar."

"My soldier lady," Catelyn snorted. "How many times have I got to tell you her name ?"

"You ain't got to tell me nothin', I just wish you would call it like it is with this woman. For everyone's sake."

"Lysa, what in hell are you on about?"

Lysa sighed irritably. "Come on, Cat. You know, you might be smarter than me in book smarts, but you can be real fuckin' dumb when you feel like it."

A long, pregnant pause.

Maege saw Sansa desperately pulling Robin out of the sandbox and coaxing him toward the house with god knew what enticement. She locked eyes with Maege, who put a finger over her lips. Frustrated, Sansa nodded once and resumed pulling Robin toward the house. After a moment or two, the back screen door squeaked open, then slammed shut. Lysa continued.

"Cat, your proclivities ain't as big of a secret as you think they are. That's for starters. Mama and Daddy didn't have no idea, 'course, but do you honestly think I didn't know you was carryin' on with that pretty blonde girl in high school? The one on the softball team, that had the twin brother?"

"Aw, Lysa, you talkin' about Cersei Lannister? 'Cause that wasn't even a thing," Catelyn protested.

But Lysa wasn't having it. "I saw you makin' out with her on the patio one time when you thought we wasn't around. And then what about that one you brought home from Clemson that spring break?"

Another long pause. "Ok, well, _that_ was a little bit of a thing."

Piano music came drifting from the living room windows. It sounded like classical music, though Maege couldn't begin to tell one composer from another. _Sansa must be trying to entertain Robin by playing for him,_ she thinks absently, now having to concentrate harder to make out the conversation through the bars of Beethoven or Mozart or whatever it was the girl was playing.

"See?" she heard Lysa demand. "Was that so hard? You coulda told me that shit thirty years ago and had a friend about it, but you were busy assuming I wouldn't understand. Meanwhile, I understand better than you think."

"What?"

"Come on, Cat. Have you really not put it together?" Lysa's voice was annoyed, exhausted.

Another long pause. "Wait... You mean you and Selyse...?"

A slow clap, followed by enough sarcasm to exhume the corpse of Dorothy Parker and send it shrieking for the hills. "Thank you, Lord. The last horse finally crosses the finish line."

"For how long?"

"Well, we ain't here to discuss me and my lady friend today. Unlike you, I have made peace with the fact that that's what I need in my life right now, no matter what Mama and Daddy would've had to say about it. I can't tell you what to do, and you probably wouldn't listen if I did, but you need to quit screwin' around. Ned's gone, and we only get one shot at things on this earth, no matter what they might be singin' at church."

At this moment, the screen door opened, and she heard Sansa come outside. Then Maege realized that the piano music hasn't stopped. "Aunt Lysa," Sansa said, "when did Robin start piano lessons?"

"What? He don't take piano lessons. We ain't even got a piano!"

"Really?  Well... That's him inside, playing Claire de Lune. I showed it to him _once_."

Maege chose this moment to come around the corner of the house into the back. "Hey, everybody!" she called cheerfully. "Lysa, nice to see you."

Lysa looked like she'd seen a ghost. She went running inside, followed by Cat, Sansa and Maege, to find Robin sitting at the piano, hacking his way through Claire de Lune. While his playing didn't have the buttery smoothness that Sansa's did after ten years of piano lessons, he clearly understood melody and rhythm, and the relationship of those things to the keys in front of him. They all stood there, mouths hanging open, watching him play the first several bars, over and over.  He finally stopped and smiled, mostly to himself, but kind of at them.  "Show me more music, Sansa?"

"You never know what someone can be," Maege muses, "till you give 'em the opportunity to be it."

 

*********************************************

 

Catelyn was with Maege a few days later when she got the phone call that Jojen Reed was dead.  Thank the lord, it wasn't suicide, which everyone was worried about; he'd happened to be in a liquor store when someone tried to rob it.  He had tried to stop them --and succeeded-- but gotten fatally shot in the process.  The funeral was going to be in two days, and his parents asked her to say a few words.

She was nervous to do it, since while she was experienced in barking orders at large companies of soldiers, speaking from the heart in front of a group had never much been her strong suit.  Catelyn helped her organize her thoughts and rewrite them; she took Maege's dress blues to be drycleaned, pressed and starched; she took her shoes to get shined, and helped her get ready on the morning of. She made her read the speech over and coached her on pacing and tone. She helped her into her uniform jacket and made sure it was pulled down right, and that it looked smart like it should.  Even still, Maege was as anxious as a kid cheating on a Spanish test.

Cat came around in front of her, looked her over once. "That's a nice look for you," she remarked with a gentle smile.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it," Maege answered, but her tone was missing some of the testiness that such an exchange would normally have. She tugged at her cuffs, needlessly straightened her medals, and grumbled, "Goddammit, I am nervous as hell."

Catelyn put both hands on her face. "You'll be fine," she assured her, still smiling that sweet, gentle smile. "Be brave. Be strong. Be you. It'll be perfect." And then she stood on tiptoe and kissed her, right on the mouth, for a good few seconds.  Long enough that she could absorb the feeling of Catelyn's warm, smooth lips on hers.  Long enough that there was no mistaking what she meant by it. "I'll be with you."

An awkward smile spread across Maege's face.  If you'd have asked her, she'd have told you she was far too old and cynical for blushing, but her face was sure feeling warm.  "Now you got me all nervous about something else," she said, in about as quiet a voice as she'd ever heard herself use, so that she almost couldn't hear it over her own heartbeat, which seemed insanely loud at the moment.

"Then I achieved my objective, Colonel."

Maege leaned down, wrapped her in a giant bear hug, and kissed her again, allowing herself to enjoy it more, now that she knew it was coming. She closed her eyes and let the warmth of it wash through her. Catelyn smelled like tea tree oil and perfume-free shampoo, and her soft body seemed to melt into Maege's when she squeezed her tightly. She'd never allowed herself to imagine it, but if she had, it wouldn't have been half as sweet as this. Catelyn Stark felt so good it almost hurt.

"I been waiting a year for you to do that," Cat half-whispered, saucily fingering the top button of Maege's jacket.

Maege snorted.  "Yeah, well, looks like we got a lot to talk about, but it ain't gonna be now.  We've got to go, and you went and wrinkled my jacket."

Catelyn smiled at her, eyes sparkling like she'd been up to some wonderful mischief. It was that look that Maege had seen a hundred times but never believed till now.

She squeezed Maege's shoulder. "Go get 'em, tiger."

 

*****************************

 

The Bear Island Sentinel reprinted Maege's speech, which left not a single dry eye in the place, in its entirety:

> Most of you here have heard the story of how I met Joe Reed.  For those who have not, suffice it to say that I did not catch him on his best day.  Three tours in Iraq as a field medic had done him no favors, and he had a hard road to get himself back to life, and family, and community.  Though I did not know him as long as many of you here, I tried to make myself the line that he could grab onto, to make his way back.  Because I knew what he was going through.  Twenty five years in the Army taught me a thing or two about what kinds of hardships you face when you serve this country in war.  People call folks like us "heroes," but they don't know begin to know the half of what that really means.
> 
> The day I met Joe, I was pretty sure he wanted to die.  The weight of what he saw in Iraq was crushing him.  But he was also a good soldier, even then, even on that day, and when I told him that he still had a job to do for me, he did it.  He understood honor, and duty, as well as any young man or woman I have ever encountered.  And I took it very personally upon myself to see that that good heart of his was going to keep beating.
> 
> If you think it's hard to be brave on the battlefield, it's even harder to be brave coming home.  It's even harder to want to finally break down, and dig through the sheer awfulness of what you've been through, only to feel you can't, either because the people around you don't really know what to do to help you, or that they won't accept that you need to do that, or because you're afraid that you'll just crack up if you do.  And people still call you a hero, but that's not really how you're feeling inside.  It's a different species of courage, getting through that.  And Joe may have needed my help and the help of his family and some very good doctors, but he was making that journey.  He was getting through it.  He was making his way back.
> 
> You never know what someone can be, until you give them the opportunity to be that.  Joe Reed was a decent man, a good son, a solid friend, and if he'd had a little more time, he would have probably been a good husband and father too.  But he was also a hero, in the truest sense of the word.  He served in wartime bravely, he did the hard work in peace time, and when he saw something that was unjust, he tried to make it right.  I know we all wish he hadn't given up his life to stop a crime from taking place, but that was who he was.  He saw an opportunity to be that kind of hero, and he took it.
> 
> Now, I believe that we are all re-united with the Lord Almighty in Heaven, but the truth is, we only get one crack at things on this earth, one run at this life.  We get one opportunity to be what we're meant to be in our time here: that teacher, that trusted friend, that second chance, that great love, that hero. And as his friend, counselor and mentor, I could not be prouder of what Joe Reed did with his.


End file.
